


Count Dragmire

by withcameraandpen



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Dracula retell babyyyyy, F/M, Multiple First Person POV, POV First Person, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:22:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29401911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withcameraandpen/pseuds/withcameraandpen
Summary: This is the collected record of the men and women who fought the dreadful vampire plaguing all of Hyrule, Count Ganondorf Dragmire.
Relationships: Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 10





	1. Link Bellator's Journal

October 13

Arrived at the edge of Gerudo Desert today. Bought some rations and new traveling gear from Canyon Stable, the last outpost before fully entering the desert. The locals at the outpost cautioned me to rest here until tomorrow morning, so I’m sitting at the lip of the canyon and writing by the light of sunset. The bridge across the canyon extends about two hundred feet until it meets the Gerudo Desert, effectively bridging this world to a completely different one. The wooden bridge looks sturdy up close, but there’s no helping how spindly and frail it looks in relation to the abyss. The canyon is so deep that I can hardly see the river trickling at its bottom.

Six days of constant travel by train, boat, and then horse is tiring, and even now my bed in the stable beckons me. But I’m restless, probably because of how the locals react when I tell them my destination is the fortress of Count Ganondorf Dragmire.

A handful of towns scatter across the route to the canyon bridge, but few people cross the canyon and step into the desert proper, only miners or the odd treasure hunter. When I came upon Kara Kara Bazaar, a town that grew out of its original jewel-market foundations, the merchants immediately identified me as an outsider and set upon me like vultures. One of them, a shrewd-looking woman named Saula, asked after my business before deciding which of her wares would best suit my needs. Admittedly, the pair of shoes in her shop with the flat soles and slim fit seemed helpful, but I never got my opportunity to purchase.

I told her I was a solicitor’s clerk going to finalize a sale with Count Dragmire. As soon as I mentioned the Count’s name, Saula grew pale and surly and begged me to reconsider. I told her I could not turn back, and she refused to sell me anything in the hopes that a lack of supplies would convince me to give up. Fortunately, there were half a dozen other merchants eager to take my money, though I did not mention my business just in case.

When I reached Canyon Stable, I asked the keeper named Romah about Count Dragmire and anything she had heard about him, but she was loath to talk. A dark shadow passed over her face and she said she felt it was her duty to warn me about Count Dragmire. In reality, there was little common knowledge concerning Dragmire and his family, only that they rarely ventured outside their palace and haven’t been seen in town in ages.

I think I know just as much about this mysterious Count as the locals do, and I have never spoken to him. My boss, the esteemed Daruk Flintlock, knows him a bit better. Count Dragmire wants a great deal many properties in Hyrule City and has been a model buyer in many respects right down to paying full price on all of them. Mr. Flintlock felt that Dragmire’s ease to work with made up for the journey to reach him, which was why he felt this was a perfect opportunity for me to prove myself. At least, that’s what he told me; I suspect he just didn’t want to make this grueling journey himself.

Despite the trepidation of the townsfolk, it’s nice to get out of Hyrule City. The travel is tough, and the journey grows lonelier by the day, but I’m enjoying it a lot more than I thought I would. Wide open spaces, spontaneity, being unable to predict what will happen next? I didn’t realize how much I missed this freedom. I wonder if Count Dragmire and I might have more in common than I first thought. The desert is beautiful, and it may be difficult to leave it.

Who am I kidding? For all my talk, I can’t bear to be away from Hyrule City for long. For all its drab, gray buildings and clogged, smoky streets, my princess waits for me. Maybe on my way out I can take a second look at Kara Kara’s wares and get her a souvenir. The merchants had many pendants, but Zelda’s a practical woman, and jewelry would just get in the way of her research.

The sun’s dipped low beneath the horizon. There’s barely enough light to see back to Canyon Stable. Tomorrow I journey across the desert to meet Count Dragmire, who must be either a dream or a nightmare.

October 14

When I woke this morning, I was greeted by the innkeeper who said Count Dragmire had sent a “surprise” for me. Yes, it was very surprising when I came outside and found a horse waiting there! It was blue with white splotches on its flank, a coloring I had rarely seen before, and its pearly mane been brushed out and decorated with jewels. A note for me waited in its saddlebag, written in elegant longhand:

_Hello, Mr. Bellator,_

_I look forward to your arrival today. Desert travel can be difficult on strangers in this land, so I have taken the liberty of sending you my best horse to help you complete your last leg. You need not worry for his health or your own safety; he is bred for these environments, he knows the desert trails well, and he is gentle even for a novice rider. There is also some water and fruit in the saddlebags should you require refreshment. I am sure you have replenished your stores at the market, but one can never be too prepared._

_You should arrive by sundown. Supper will be on the table when you do. If you leave your bags at Canyon Stable, my servants will fetch them and bring them in time for your arrival._

_Your friend,  
Count Ganondorf Dragmire_

I had been dreading my trek across the desert, so the Count’s generosity and foresight was a great relief. I was already dressed in the traveling gear I purchased yesterday, which was a great deal flashier than the Hylian fashion, which made it all the more appealing in the moment. I had rations to spare and a horse that hardly needed guiding, so it was with high spirits that I climbed into the horse’s saddle despite the hollow look on the innkeeper’s face. As I dug my heels into the horse’s sides and crossed out of the canyon and into the desert, I felt secure in Mr. Flintlock’s assessment of the Count and stupid for letting the locals scare me the other night. Count Dragmire may be eccentric, but he’s a good host, and I didn’t come all the way out here to be frightened by a handful of odd rumors about our client.

The horse and I set off across the desert. His hooves easily found the sandstone paths that my eye could not discern, unused to the intense sunshine and unable to tell the difference between sand and sandstone. As we traveled, I pondered the matter of my bags, left at the inn at Dragmire’s insistence. I saw no one waiting with my horse this morning, so where were these servants that were going to arrive at the Count’s residence before me? I kept a lookout for them as we traveled, thinking that these servants needed a cart or carriage to bring my trunk, but it was just me, the horse, and the untouched dunes. Though I wore the cooler gear and replenished my energy with all of my food including the rations given by Count Dragmire, the crossing was still difficult, and I found myself thinking of Zelda just to distract myself from the heat and exhaustion.

True to his word, I arrived at the Count’s residence just as the sun dipped below the horizon. It’s a glimmering desert palace with stained-glass windows and gemstones lining every doorway. In the center of the palace, the eye of the storm, was a glimmering oasis. Maybe it was my day in the desert talking, but that water looked bluer than any lake or river I had ever seen. 

The front gates were closed when I arrived, and my horse began to whinny impatiently at the standstill. I dismounted to soothe him and give him the last water in our supply, but it was only when a man appeared in the grand entrance of the palace and drew closer did it calm down. He opened the gates and guided both myself and the horse in, and introduced himself as Count Ganondorf Dragmire.

The Count was like a dark blot in an otherwise blindingly bright desert. He had bronzed skin and dark gear, including a cloak that flapped in the wind. He wore a bright topaz jewel on a circlet in the center of his forehead. His bright red hair was woven within and around the circlet, tightly and elegantly marshaled into a soldier’s hairstyle. His large smile was pleasant, but his yellow eyes had a certain shrewd glint to them.

“Mr. Bellator!” he called. “I am glad you arrived safely. Please, come in. Supper is on the table.”

With a click of his tongue, the horse trotted away and disappeared around the corner of the palace. I asked after his fate, but the Count assured me not to worry, as the horse could easily find its way to its stable if it can find its way across a desert. With my worry for my traveling companion swiftly dealt with, I eagerly followed the Count inside where we walked through airy corridors into a spacious dining room. A sumptuous prime roast and bowls filled with local fruits waited on a table that was low to the ground and surrounded by cushions. Count Dragmire waved his hand and said, “Eat. It is all for you. I will sit with you, but I have already eaten.”

He sat on a cushion at the head of the table. I originally made for the opposite end, only for him to invite me to the cushion beside him. “How can we talk if you’re a league away?”

Things certainly were different in Gerudo, and I grew to enjoy them, especially once I tasted their food. The roast was cooked perfectly all the way through, and the fruit was juicy and sweet to complement the savory meat. Count Dragmire asked a question or two regarding his dealings with Mr. Flintlock but was content to let me eat. After I had my fill we started talking in earnest, and he seemed very interested in my mundane work and Hyrule City. 

“Why Hyrule?” I asked him. “It’s a big move from such a beautiful landscape. The city doesn’t look like this.”

“True,” said the Count. “But as beautiful as my desert is, it is awfully remote, and Hyrule City is the center of the world. It’s time I reenter it.”

Before I knew it, the chill of the desert night had set in. Still in my lighter gear, I shivered as a breeze cut through the room. Seeing my chill, Count Dragmire apologized for keeping me up and insisted I head to bed. He led me to a room in a tower on one of the corners of the palace that overlooked the great swaths of sand, the snowcapped orange mesa in the distance barely visible in the dark. He bid me goodnight and then warned me to keep the doors and windows closed since the cold could easily seep in.

True to his word, my bags from Canyon Stable had been brought to my room, though I hadn’t seen a single servant within the palace. Honestly, I wasn’t surprised. Count Dragmire is so unusual that performing such a miracle seems well within his wheelhouse. What’s a rich, genteel count doing in the middle of nowhere, anyway.

With a full belly and my warm pajamas returned to me, I sank into a firm, musty-smelling bed and quickly fell asleep, tired from the day’s travel.

October 15

I awoke late in the morning the next day. I wandered the palace, dazzled by the opulent gemstones and detailed carvings that decorated the place, and discovered breakfast had been prepared but Count Dragmire was nowhere to be seen. He had left a note at the table explaining that he had business in town and would not be back until evening. I knew full well that the locals hadn’t seen Count Dragmire or any Dragmire in years, but I still sat down to breakfast and ate my fill. It was more fruit and sweet bread, and I found myself enjoying the indulgences of desert culture more and more.

After breakfast, I brought the contracts into the oasis in the center of the palace, pleased to work in such a pretty spot as I double-checked that everything was in order. Zelda insisted I check before I left Hyrule City -- even now I can hear her chiding me, saying that traveling all this way with an error in my work would be pointless -- but I never actually got around to it. Sorry, Zelda.

Even as I read, though, my mind wandered. I had not seen a single servant anywhere in the palace, though the Count clearly had some servants or else my bags would still be at the inn. That coupled with his fib of going into town for business occupied me something awful. Where was he going, and who was working for him? 

Checking the contracts was hopeless. I couldn’t just sit here with all these questions. I decided to explore the palace while I had run of it so I could start to understand Count Dragmire a little better. 

October 15, later

It’s nearly sunset when my host said he’ll be returning. I’ll write down my observations here while they’re fresh in my mind. Proud of me, Princess?

The palace has three floors in total. On the first is the entrance hall, dining room, kitchen, a downright luxurious bathroom, the stables that housed a handful of horses including my traveling friend, and the center oasis as well as storerooms for food. I think they’re for food, but I can’t tell because they’re so empty and look like they’ve only recently been used. There’s barely enough food for the pair of us for a week! 

Second floor had a library, study, and many guest rooms including my own, as well as a shrine dedicated to an unfamiliar set of deities. I might double back to the library later to read up on these deities or ask Count Dragmire himself, but tonight we’re going to be finalizing all the documents and beginning the preparations for his move. 

Third floor was a dud. Besides a locked door in the northwestern tower which I assume led to the Count’s room, it was mostly unused guest chambers or storerooms covered in a thick film of dust. One of them looked almost like Mipha’s office, sporting an exam table, a cot, and shelves lined with elixirs and herbs aplenty. That was all I could glean from this apparently unused floor.

But as I headed back downstairs, I caught a glimpse through the window out at the desert. I saw a figure upon the dunes, striding resolutely closer to the palace from the direction of town. She didn’t see me through the stained-glass window, but I found a clear piece of glass in the setting and peered through that. Even from this distance I could see the glint of her armor in the sunlight and the fast clip at which she traveled. Like the Count, she had long, red hair but hers billowed out behind her, unable to be kept contained.

I rushed back downstairs through the palace and out to the front gates, eager to meet her. When she saw me appear, she seemed to speed up her approach even though she was quite far away, sprinting across the sands. She was breathless when she finally drew up to the gates, hands clasping the thick iron bars. She wore dazzling rings on her fingers and a massive scimitar at her hip. She introduced herself between gasps for breath. Her name was Urbosa, and she had come to see me!

“They said in town that the Count has a visitor,” she said. “I’ve come to help. How they didn’t stop you is beyond me. I couldn’t sleep at night if I just let you go!” 

I tried to calm her down and tell her I wasn’t in any danger, but Urbosa refused to listen. “I’m hiding out in the desert, so he won’t be able to find me. When you need to escape -- and trust me, that time will come -- I will help you.”

“Why should I be afraid?” I retorted. “Count Dragmire is a client, and he’s been much friendlier to me than anyone else in this desert! You fear him, but why?”

Her grip tightened on the gate. “Because his thirst for power leads him to consume and destroy anything in his path. You said he is your client? What is your trade?”

“A solicitor.”

Her eyes widened and her face turned white. “Where is he buying land?”

I refused to tell her on grounds of confidentiality, but I got the impression Hyrule City would be an illuminating answer. When she realized she wouldn’t get any other information out of me, she said, “Trust me that the longer you remain in his clutches, the greater danger you are in. You must find a way to open these gates and flee! I’ll be here when you need me, and I’ll never stop fighting for you.”

Then she turned and left as quickly as she came, fleeing across the dunes.

I don’t know what to make of all this. Despite the evidence of my own eyes, I feel the trepidation of the locals beginning to color my judgment. Count Dragmire is harmless, but my self-appointed guardian angel fears him beyond superstition. What is likelier: that whole nation is lying or overly superstitious, or one man is lying to me and I’m unwilling to believe it?

Zelda once told me about blue nightshade berries, whose deadly poison is sweet upon first bite. Something about Count Dragmire reeks of nightshade.

October 15, midnight

Before now, I thought I could keep my head in a crisis. I’ve kept my cool in what I thought were impossible circumstances, only for me to confront true impossibility tonight and almost lose my mind. I must record everything that happened tonight if only to assure myself that these things did happen. 

Dinner went well enough. The Count chatted idly about whatever “business” he had in town and I pretended to swallow it all. If he thought I was none the wiser, then he wouldn’t notice my eye on his plate. He hardly touched his food all night, same as the last. He only took long, savory drinks out of his goblet. Since he really seemed to enjoy it, I asked what he was drinking, and he gestured to my own goblet. “The same as you, of course.”

“But you’re enjoying yours quite a lot,” I replied.

“Because it is my favorite, and I make sure to keep it in stock. My apologies if you don’t enjoy it.”

I assured him I did, all the while knowing that he had lied to my face. I let it go, knowing I had a greater quarry tonight: answers to why he was so feared throughout Gerudo, and if I should be afraid, too.

I asked him about local customs and specifically about superstition. He told me, “There is great power in superstition, but few take advantage of that.”

When I told him I didn’t understand, he gave me a smile and said, “I’m sure you’ll learn soon enough.”

“Then tell me about superstition,” I asked. “What is it specifically that they fear?”

“A deep connection to darkness,” he replied. “They believe this desert is connected to a place called the Twilight Realm. It was a world alongside our own and yet other than our own, ruled by dark magic and bound in incredible power. The Gerudo fear it as well as those of us who provoke it, but I will admit to being fascinated by it. I suppose I have made myself a pariah in that regard, but you can see that the desert holds no danger. How long have I lived here without incident?”

“How long have you lived here?” I blurted out.

He considered the question, appearing to weigh his response with care, and then said to my face, “Most of my life. Why do you ask, Mr. Bellator?”

My stomach plummeted. I always forget how terrible I am at subtlety. I decided a partial truth was in order. “Someone approached me today at the gates. She spoke of superstition, and I became curious.”

“Did she, now.” His friendly manner slid away. “Thank you for telling me this. While you’re in my care, I intend to ensure your safety to the utmost.”

I told him I never felt unsafe with this woman, but the damage was already done. The secret was spilled.

I didn’t press my luck, returning to my supper that was just as delicious as the previous day’s. When we finished, we went to the study on the second floor to get to work. He’d purchased about thirty different properties in Hyrule City, various houses in less-than-wealthy neighborhoods as well as decrepit churches and crumbling temples. I talked him through each of his contracts in broad terms, and while he was unfamiliar with foreign legalese, he was a quick study and asked me intelligent questions. With only a hint of paranoia fueling my suspicion and no real evidence, I felt compelled to answer him earnestly. There wasn’t much harm in his questions, only asking about how soliciting worked. I assumed that if he was investing in these places, then he was probably learning more about how to resell them, and then kicked myself for assuming such a thing.

“How might I arrange cargo shipping?” he asked me. 

I replied, “Depends. What do you plan on shipping?”

He stilled for a moment, and then his graceful geniality returned. “Home comforts. I’m eager for a change of scene, but I have plenty of souvenirs of my homeland I’d like to take with me.”

“Uh-huh. How big are they?”

“Rather large.”

“Then they’ll be pretty pricey.” I ran him through a few international shipping companies Mr. Flintlock favored and then we returned to the documents, which he signed with a regal flourish. We wrapped up after a few hours. With promises to continue tomorrow, I bid him goodnight and then went up to my room where I tossed and turned, unable to calm my churning thoughts. I fell into an uneasy sleep and then woke a few hours later to witness the event that prompted my journaling in the middle of the night.

I was woken by a scrabbling across my window. I’m a light sleeper and the day’s conversation had me on edge, so I woke quickly enough to see a shadow pass over the window, blotting out the moonlight. Curious, I drew close to the window to see what it was. 

It was Count Dragmire flying through the air, descending from the third floor as though suspended on invisible puppet strings. He moved across the sky at almost a leisurely pace, his hand on his hip and his untied hair fluttering in the wind. His cloak flapped behind him like the wings of a bat as he glided beyond the defensive wall surrounding the fortress and across the desert, touching down at the far-off peak of a dune.

The sight shook me to my core. I knew then that Urbosa and the locals had been right, that the Count was far more sinister and dangerous than I could ever know, and I was right in the palm of his hand.

I raced out of my room and through the palace, the cold stone chilling my bare feet. The sand was almost a welcome change as I hurtled out of the palace and toward the front gates. A large iron chain crisscrossed the bars, making doubly sure I could not escape that way. I had known that would likely be the case, so I forced my panic down and tried scaling the wall. The sandstone was so smooth that I could hardly find a fingerhold in it, and I slid off almost as quickly as I threw myself back at the wall. 

When the shivers of my hands became too great and when I started to suspect he might come back, I returned to the castle and recorded everything that passed. And here we are.  
Two things are for certain: Count Dragmire possesses some sinister power that belongs nowhere in Hyrule City, and I am completely at his mercy.


	2. Link Bellator's Journal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link learns more about Count Dragmire, including the source of his powers and some prominent figures in his childhood.

Link Bellator’s Diary

October 16

It is daytime. Another note and another waiting meal have confirmed Count Dragmire will spend the day in town. I am alone.

The image of Dragmire floating above the sands still haunts me. It certainly explains how he is able to survive in the desert without going into town for supplies: he can probably hunt to his heart’s content, having become the apex predator of Gerudo. But how did he get these supernatural powers? And if he enjoys ruling the desert alone, what plans did he have for Hyrule City? I had to learn more about his plans, so I had to learn more about him.

To identify the gaps, I have to fill in what I know:

1\. He lies about where he spends his day.

2\. He is wealthy.

3\. He is buying several properties in Hyrule City for uncertain purposes. 

4\. He doesn’t eat and is very particular about what he drinks.

5\. He mentioned the Twilight Realm when I asked about superstition. He believes I’m naïve, so I’m inclined to believe he was telling a vague truth to placate me.

All told, I don’t know much about him as a person. To my face he treats me well, but he hides so much. If I could gain his trust by playing the fool, I’ll learn more about him.   
In the meantime, I’ll check out his library and see if he has anything on the Twilight Realm to begin my research into the possible source of his powers. If I learn anything noteworthy, I’ll put it down here.

I wish I had your mind, Zelda. You’ve probably already read about the Twilight Realm, haven’t you? You’d know exactly what I’m facing. You and I could probably stop him together. 

I can figure this out. It’s a matter of knowing the enemy, so let’s get to know the Count.

October 16, evening

Today’s been insightful, to say the least. During the day, I read up on the Twilight Realm and its origin, history, and nature. According to the Collected Oral History of the Twilight I found in the library, the Twilight Realm is a shadowy, mysterious world connected to our own. The connection to this world is the strongest in Gerudo Desert, and according to millennia-old firsthand accounts, residents of this realm would occasionally appear in the desert. The people of the Twilight Realm known as Interlopers could fly and phase through walls, and they also possessed incredible strength! 

With each word I read, I grew more fearful of my host until I read a certain passage: _The Interlopers were kind, gentle people, but they could not stay in this world for long, for the sun repelled them like poison, weakening them until they must withdraw to their shadows._ I have not yet seen the Count in daylight. Did he share the same weakness for the sun?

The passage went on: _There was a way for them to stay in the land of light. The unnatural would have to steal the strength of the natural, feeding on creatures of light to anchor themselves in our world. There were some Interlopers who were enchanted with our world, and some of our world mesmerized by the Twilight Realm, too. But as much as the Interlopers may have wanted to stay, they were so gentle that they refused to drink from us, even those brave enough to volunteer. While they were guests in our world, said almost each one, they would not act as parasites._

I can’t wrap my head around that. These Interlopers could “feed” or “drink” on the inhabitants of this world -- though they seemed horrified by the preposition -- to remain here. The collection dances around the method of “stealing strength” and never outright states it. I don’t know if the implication is too vague to understand, or if I understand perfectly and am in denial.

I learned plenty from my research into the Twilight Realm, but my conversation with Dragmire when he returned from wherever he’d spent the day yielded even more. I pretended to be utterly friendly with him, laughing, joking, and insisting he pour me more and more gobletfuls of wine. I have the Three to thank for my own strong stomach to pull off the illusion of complete inebriation. When we finished supper, he prepared me an excellent drink called a Noble Pursuit and we retired to his library. I asked about how he came to reside in the desert and why he liked it so much. 

He clearly has a deep love of his home. He spoke of the vicious creatures inhabiting these dunes with a deep fondness, like a pet owner’s unconditional love. He spoke of the gems to be found in the hills of the mesa, of the fossils of mysterious, titanic creatures, of the sheer thrill in conquering such an inhospitable wasteland. He spoke of fending off countless invading parties, listing conflicts that I vaguely remembered learning about in my school days. These conflicts were hundreds of years old, but he spoke of the formation of the province of Gerudo as though he was there drawing the boundary lines himself. It was all so curious that I couldn’t help but pry.

“So,” I said, slouched in an armchair in his library, “if you love your desert so much, why are you leaving it?”

The question caught him short, and I saw a flash of worry in those cunning yellow eyes. But it was gone as quick as it appeared, and his voice was as smooth as honey as he replied, “You grew up in Hyrule City, and you found my desert enchanting when you arrived. I have spent most of my life here and find myself curious about your city. A change of scene with some healthy business prospects is enough to tear me from my roots.”

“And what are you going to do, anyway?” I said. “You bought properties no one else wanted. Flintlock couldn’t pay people to take them off his hands. Temples and churches? What do you want with those?”

I saw that cunning flash in his eye again, so I spilled some of my drink on myself to add to the effect. The spill made him laugh, and he quickly fetched a napkin to mop up the wine. When he settled down, he had apparently decided on the curated answer he would give me.

“I have always had a certain affection for religion, both my own and others,” he said. “And I hope I can repair those places, preserve their history, and share that history with others. But tell me now of the leaders of Hyrule City, the people pushing things forward. What are they like?”

Thank the Three I was so committed to the drunken act. If I wasn’t focused on appearing non-threatening, I’m sure my face would have let slip my personal connection, however tangential it may actually be. “All right, I suppose. Sort of unreachable, but they seem to have the interests of the people at heart. They’ve been funding a lot of technological initiatives lately.”

“As in?”

“Accessibility, transportation, information technology,” I rattled off a bit too familiar for comfort.

“And what of their security? Their police force?”

“Robust.”

He was staring at me as if in a new light. He was starting to put pieces together and maybe to realize I wasn’t nearly as drunk as I seemed. I asked one more question, dangerously close to blowing it all but his answer was essential to understanding his plan. “Why do you ask? Hyrule City’s one of the safest places around.”

“Yes, yes. I have complete faith in the city’s defenses.” He smiled. “You yourself must be very brave to venture from such a well-defended stronghold and out to my wasteland.”  
I shrugged. “I’ve always wanted to travel. I thought working for a solicitor would allow for that, but it’s been mainly contracts and offices and working with demanding clients -- not you, Count Dragmire. You’re one of Mr. Flintlock’s favorites.”

He laughed. “Glad to hear it. But it’s interesting you bring that up. I think we’re very similar.”

I held back a retch. “Are we?”

“We’re both independent, and we both have a love of the wilds. Wouldn’t it be nice to be our own men?” he asked, gesturing around the library. It was one of the most understated rooms in his palace, but even here the opulence of his wealth could be seen in the artifacts in display cases, golden helms and wicked-looking blades with jewel-encrusted handles. “Living at your own whim? Bowing to no one else’s will, and in fact ordering instead of obeying?”

Caught off guard by the abrupt change of subject, I spluttered, “I don’t understand.”

“There is a way, Mr. Bellator. I can help you take charge of your own destiny.”

Count Dragmire was about to volunteer the answers I so desperately wanted! But if he did and I refused to take part in his scheme, I knew he’d kill me to prevent me from getting in his way. I was sitting right in the viper’s nest, so I had to distract the viper.

I spilled some more wine on myself and ruined the moment. He seemed disappointed that his sales pitch was interrupted, but he was utterly genial and accommodating as he helped me clean up and called the night to an end. He even helped me to my room and made me promise not to rise until morning so I would get enough rest.

And here I am. I’ve written down everything I learned today, but I’m not finished yet. I’ll wait until he thinks I’m asleep and then take a look in his study for whatever other business dealings he has waiting in Hyrule. He’s bought all these properties in Hyrule City, and for what? He has these powers, but why? And what was that business about taking charge of my destiny? I’m a greater factor in his plans than I thought, which means I’m in more danger than I anticipated.

October 16, midnight

My hand’s shaking as I race to write down everything that occurred. Every time I return to my diary, I learn something new and devastating that I cannot believe until I put it down on the page.

I sneaked to the study, only to find the light on and the Count working within. I decided to wait and see how long he would stay there. I holed up in the nearby library and pretended to read, waiting for the moment he would emerge. He worked in there for such a long time that I, overestimating how much wine I’d drunk tonight, fully fell asleep.

I awoke some hours later. The moon had fully risen, and the study down the hall was dark. Springing on my opportunity, I slipped down the hall until I saw a pair of shadows rounding the corner in the moonlight and coming in my direction!

I panicked and fled back to the library. I waited by the door for them to pass, but it became clear that they meant to head to the room where I was hiding! I threw myself into one of the chairs with a book in my lap to make it appear I’d fallen asleep reading and tried to breathe evenly, in case my panic gave away my wakened state. I opened my eyes a sliver to see the door open and the two figures I spotted down the hall entering the room. They were two short, thin women, and they bickered incessantly as they searched the shelves.

“Sends us to clean his mess!” one snapped, her voice high and grating. “Such an ungrateful boy.”

“I know,” the other one replied, her voice in a slightly lower register. “Sending his mothers to do his dirty work!”

“Kotake,” hissed the first suddenly. “Look over there!”

The second didn’t bother to whisper. “You act like you’ve never seen a Hylian before, Koume.”

They drew close to me in perfect silence. I heard hardly a footfall as they moved across the stone floor. “He’s exquisite, isn’t he?” Kotake said. “Young, fit, not an ounce of fat on him at all.”

“The fat’s the best part!” Koume smiled wickedly. “So full of life. But yes, I can hardly resist this specimen! Come, sister, let’s end our fast!”

They both leaned into me, opening their moist mouths and revealing sharp teeth and tongues that danced across their lips. They were predators closing in for the kill, animals of the same breed as Dragmire! What to do, to play dead or fight them off? Was I doomed either way?

Suddenly more light flooded the room and Count Dragmire’s voice boomed through it, bouncing off the stone. “Get away from him!”

The women fell back from me, shriveling and sniveling. “What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded. “You almost ruined everything!”

“Forgive us!” Kotake cried. “Forgive us. Our hunger overcame us for just a moment!”

“I will see to your hunger soon,” he replied, lip curling. “You think I would let my dear mothers starve?”

“Thank you, thank you!” She threw herself to the Count’s feet and crooned, “Such a good, sweet boy. You care for us so well, going above and beyond the gifts we gave you!”  
Koume frowned. “And yet this gift of life whittles away at us. This desert is so empty. How can it feed one, let alone three or more?”

The Count’s face softened, and he reached a hand down and helped Kotake to her feet. Their cloaks draped over one another, blotting out the moonlight and forming the dark shape of a single monster. “I know it’s been difficult sustaining ourselves for so long out here, but be patient,” he said. “Once Hyrule City is ours, you will never hunger again.”

“But what about tonight?” pleaded Koume. “How can we last until Hyrule if you don’t feed us tonight?”

“I intended to find something for tonight, but it looks like my prey eludes me still. Don’t worry, dear mothers. You will eat tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow!” wailed Koume, but her sister shushed her and said, “We can be patient, dear Ganondorf. We understand.”

“Good. Now let’s leave the foolish Mr. Bellator before he wakes.”

They left silently. I lay there for some minutes in case they returned, and then I sneaked back to my room. I’m trembling head to toe now, writing in bed to look like normal, to pretend this could be normal because if it’s normal, then I could fight it.

But it’s not normal. Nothing about Dragmire or those sisters or this castle was ever normal! I should have heeded the locals’ words and turned tail. Hylia, why didn’t I listen?

I know without a doubt those sisters would have killed me, eaten me, destroyed me in whatever way sates them. And I know now that they cannot be allowed into Hyrule City or else the heart of civilization will fall, and the rest of civilization with it.

His questions about the leadership of the city take on a much more sinister meaning. For what dark purposes is he targeting them? Would that cause Zelda to fall in his path, too, through her work for that very city?

Zelda. I can’t let him get Zelda.

Maybe this is what courage is. The thought of Dragmire wreaking havoc in the city was a frightening prospect, and doubly so because of how certain it was to come to pass. I was quaking in my boots knowing that I was under the power of this unstoppable force who would likely kill me once I stopped being useful to him, or even sooner if he figures out I’m poking around.

But as soon as the thought of Zelda entered my mind, a resolve built in me and cut through the fear. For Dragmire to attack Hyrule City was paralyzing, but for him to come near Zelda is unacceptable. 

I’ll go to war with the Count. Whatever his dark machinations are, I have to stop him from reaching Hyrule City at all costs.

But first I must discover his true goal so that I know better how to stop him. I will feign ignorance as long as I can to learn more about him, his powers, and his desires, but if he discovers and kills me, then maybe I can take him down with me. If that keeps Hyrule safe, then so be it.

I need intel, so I’ll start with a search of the castle tomorrow. For tonight I need as much rest as I can get. I feel strangely calm with this new resolve. The fear still chills my bones knowing the Count is lurking in the shadows but thinking of the warmth of Zelda’s smile chases away the numbness. I can’t let Dragmire get anywhere near her or anyone else in the city. I can’t let him leave this palace.

That means I may not leave this palace, either. I love you, Zelda. If this diary ever reaches you, know that I remembered your face to keep me strong and that I’m sorry if we never have our wedding day. I can’t imagine my life without you in it, and my deepest regrets that you may experience the reverse now. Know that I’ll always love you, and that I want you to be happy.

Now to bed, so I can claw my way back to you in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates will be weekly (I hope) and I'd love to hear what you guys think! I know this is a pretty out-there concept for an AU, but it just wouldn't leave me alone until I started writing. So thanks for reading!


	3. Link Bellator's Journal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link attempts to delay Count Dragmire's plans long enough for help to arrive.

Link Bellator's Journal

October 17

Another breakfast and another note confirmed Count Dragmire was out for the day. I am alone, so for now I am safe. I ate my fill and carved my warpath.

I searched the castle a second time for information, paying much closer attention than I had previously. I tried getting past that locked door on the third floor, figuring that that must be Dragmire’s chambers and knowing the best intel must lay in there. I failed, but I kept my eyes peeled for anything that could jimmy the lock as I moved on.

In my initial look into the storerooms on the third floor yesterday, I had seen they contained boxes but today I noticed how long and low the boxes were and how they rather resembled coffins. I opened one and found that it was halfway full of sand! The sand’s surface was smooth as glass, and I dare not touch it and risk alerting the Count with the disturbance. I opened several others and found they all contained the same thing. I counted about fifty all together. What in the world was his purpose with these?

I heard Zelda’s voice in the back of my mind as I went to the library on the second floor, thrilled that in my time of need, I turn to books. First, though, I looked at which books were clean of dust, which would signal frequent handling of them by the Count. Many of the books he’d consulted lately were on Hyrule geography and governance, leading me to believe he had known the correct answers when he questioned me last night. That’s not really an earth-shattering revelation, though: reading about a city will teach you differently than what a citizen can tell you. Not damning by itself.

I leafed through the tome on the Twilight Realm again, but I couldn’t find an answer for the sand-filled boxes in its pages. Perhaps another worshiper of this realm could tell me its significance, but I can’t imagine how I’d find another. Besides, I think tangling with one is enough!

My search rendered nothing else, so I have returned to my room to write down everything I’ve learned. In summary, he draws his power from the Twilight Realm in some way, gave this power to his infernal mothers (where are they? I haven’t seen them before last night in the palace, nor have I found them since!), and now plans to bring them to Hyrule City to prey on people like they tried to do last night to me. They’re animals, plain and simple, and they are much, much higher on the food chain than I. 

This is the third day I’ve seen hide nor hair of Count Dragmire, and yet he and his mothers are crawling all over the place at night. I already know he’s lying about how he spends his time, so could it be that he, like the inhabitants of the Twilight Realm, can’t abide the sunlight? Does he sleep during the day to rise at night? Even as I write it, I’m filled with certainty that that’s the answer. He must be sleeping in the palace right now!

And if he’s sleeping to avoid sunlight, that means I have the opportunity to strike. If I could find him, I could kill him right now. 

Could I? Am I capable of such a thing?

I must. I must kill Count Dragmire no matter how deeply it stains my soul. If I don’t snuff him out here, then there’s no hope for Hyrule.

But how? This creature who is powerful, old, and beyond mortal comprehension. Even if I found a way to break into his bedroom -- that must be where he and his mothers are, I’m sure of it -- how could I bring down a titan?

Maybe it’s not a matter of breaking into his room as I said. Maybe I can pick the lock instead and leave no trace of my invasion should my efforts fail. It’s been a while since my old troublemaking days with Mipha repurposing spent fishhooks into lockpicks, but I’m certain I still have my skill. All that’ll take is a few pins, and I’m sure I can find them somewhere! 

So, I must try. Armed with my deductions and my strategy, I must try to kill him. As I read over it, though, I realize my deductions do not amount to much, and really only serve to frighten me. I wish I were more like you, Zelda. I’m sure you could piece together Dragmire’s exact weakness in moments and come up with an escape plan just as quickly. I wish I could write to you to warn you in case my efforts fail and Dragmire comes to Hyrule City, but how can I get the word out? The gates are locked while the Count sleeps, so I’m trapped here during the day.

Wait! Urbosa, my guardian angel! She can help me! I’ll write Zelda and Mr. Flintlock, and then I’ll ask her to take the letters to town. When I see her, I owe her an apology and unwavering gratitude for looking out for me. If she wants to take down the Count, then I’ll tell her we’ll have the might of Hyrule City behind us!

Draft of a letter, Link Bellator to Daruk Flintlock

Hello, Mr. Flintlock,

We need to cancel all of Count Dragmire’s sales immediately. ~~He’s a monster~~ He’s too dangerous to allow in the city. ~~We have to stop him at all costs.~~ If you don’t believe me, ask Zelda.

Signed,

Link Bellator

Draft of a letter, Link Bellator to Zelda Bosphoramus

Hi, Princess,

~~I need your father’s help. My client has turned out to be~~

~~I need you to alert the authorities and send an army out here. I think it’ll take an army to stop the monster that is Count Dragmire.~~

~~I’m scared.~~

I’m in grave danger. Flintlock’s client ~~is a monster with mysterious powers, and he~~ has terrible designs for Hyrule City. I’ll do what I can here, but if he kills me if it’s not enough, you have to raise the alarm in Hyrule and send an army. Make sure they come during the day.

You know I don’t exaggerate, so trust me when I say that if Count Dragmire succeeds in his plans, then all Hyrule will lose.

I love you dearly.

Sincerely,

Your knight, Link

October 17, later

Things are looking up. I was able to flag down Urbosa and meet with her at the gates of the palace. She was relieved to see me and hurried up with just as much urgency as the last time we met.

“I’ve been trying to work out your escape,” she said, “but Dragmire’s been searching the desert at night, and I’ve been preoccupied with evading him.”

I apologized, told her I saw the danger now, and that I was doing my best to stop Dragmire from leaving the desert and enacting his plans to take over Hyrule City. She was horrified, but I was glad to see her reaction. It meant I wasn’t alone.

“We have to stop him at all costs!” she declared. “We are lucky he restrained himself to the desert for so long.”

“I have a plan,” I said, and pushed the letters into her hand. “My fiancée’s father has powerful connections to Hyrule’s government. I’ve asked them to send soldiers here. And I’ve written my boss to cancel Dragmire’s other contracts, so he doesn’t have a legal foothold in the city.”

She smiled when she took the letters. Her smile was rather like the scimitar on her hip: bright, sharp, and deadly. “What bad luck that he took you as his prisoner,” she said, “when you are singularly positioned to ruin his plans!”

“Exactly. My hope is that we don’t need their reinforcements at all. The Count sleeps during the day and becomes active at night, so I’m going to try and kill him in his bed!”

Urbosa’s jaw dropped. Even she, this warrior who would take him on, couldn’t imagine doing what I planned! “Use caution,” she said. “He is wily, and the penalty for failure will be high. Protect yourself.”

She reached into her boot, pulled out a dagger, and handed it to me through the bars of the gate. The dagger was beautiful, its handle encrusted with jewels and its blade razor sharp. “This will help. Make sure to hide it well.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll hurry to mail those letters. If we fail, I fear we’ll both be dead before they reach their intended.” _My intended,_ I thought will a chill. She continued, “We only have so much time.”

“Wait.” Urbosa had done so much to help me but I knew nothing about her. I asked, “Why are you doing this? How do you know so much about Count Dragmire, and why are you so dead set on stopping him?”

Her lip curled and she looked up at the palace, fingers tightening around the iron bars again. “I am the rightful chieftain of the Gerudo people, but he forced my family off the throne and took it for himself. I want my throne, but I want to protect my people, too. Those who go into the desert rarely come back, and though I know not what happens to them, I know their blood is on Dragmire’s hands. It was bad enough that my people were going in when they ought to know better. But you, who had no idea what danger there was? And,” she added with a wry grin, “I couldn’t ignore the chance to discover more about him. Who were you, and what did he need you for?”

“I guess we’ve both learned, then.”

We bid goodbye and she turned and darted across the dunes, making haste for Gerudo Town. I turned and headed back into the palace, feeling both safe and unsteady now that I had the dagger. I could protect myself, but I wasn’t going to use this to protect myself, was I? I was going to kill Count Dragmire. He may not be human, but he was a living being, and I had plans to snuff him out. 

I went into the kitchen, hoping both that I would and would not find something that could help me pick the lock of the third-floor chamber. I was delighted and heartbroken to find thin, metallic implements that looked a lot like skewer rods. They were thin compared to the skewer rods in Eldin, but for a big, old lock like the one on the Count’s door, they would be perfectly fine.

I fought with myself each step up to the locked door on the third floor. I knew what I had to do, but even with all of Hyrule depending on me, my Zelda depending on me, I didn’t know if I could go through with it. Lack of weapon and lack of lockpick were both obstacles I could hide behind, convenient excuses not to strike while I could. But Dragmire needs to go down. He has to, he has to, he has to!

I arrived at the door to his tower. I managed to open the door with my makeshift lockpicks and slipped quietly inside. Thick curtains hung across the windows, blotting out most light except the slivers that escaped around the edges. A sofa and chairs sat in one corner of the room, a deep armoire in the other. Thinner curtains hung around the bed -- or rather, where the bed should be, because there was no mattress, no headboard, nothing. The curtains hung around a stone casket that rested on a dais. I recognized some of the symbols carved into the casket: the Gerudo emblem and the moon were familiar, but the geometric patterns that decorated the sides were a mystery to me. Two similar but smaller caskets flanked the larger one, but I went to the big one first. It drew me like a moth to flame.

I heaved back the corner of the lid. Inside lay Count Dragmire himself, asleep but so still that he seemed dead. He lay upon a bed of orange sand, just like the other boxes I found in the palace! His arms lay crossed over his chest, and his jaw was firmly shut, his incisors so long they extended past his lower lip. His yellow eyes were open in an expression of such hatred, such powerful malice, that I almost lost my nerve right there. He was a monster of frightening power.

But then, I remembered, that it was because he was a monster that I was doing this. He was a monster, and I had to kill him.

I pulled out the dagger from Urbosa and held it over his heart, clutching it with both hands. I murmured a quick prayer to the Three, took a deep breath, and then thrust the dagger down. Instead of plunging into flesh and bone, though, an invisible barrier stopped me in midair about six inches above him. I couldn’t force the dagger down any further! 

I tried, honest I tried. But then those yellow eyes flicked over to me, and the full blast of his malice shook me to my core and burned away my resolve, and I knew I had only ever been his prey.

I gave up. I’m so sorry, but I gave up. I stopped the knocking of my knees long enough to shove the lid back into place and ran from that room like hell. I flew like I was possessed, single-minded in my desperation to escape. I ran back out to the front gates and tried to open them or pick that lock, too, but it refused to give. I thought of my traveling friend and the stables, and I hurried to retrieve one of the Count’s very own horses to use in my escape. I brought him to the front gate and stood as evenly as I could on the saddle, but the wall remained stubbornly insurmountable. I was trapped here.

What if the Count knows of my attempt on his life? Surely my usefulness will have withered with the weight of my threat, and he’ll kill me no matter how much he needs me for his plans, right? 

That’s assuming he’ll be aware that I tried to kill him. Who knows if he will?

The contracts! He’ll need those more than he needs me, so if I destroy them through some feigned accident -- burning them in the fire, or drowning them in the oasis, perhaps? -- then I can buy myself a few days to redo them. And if Zelda receives my letters and sends help, a few days might be just enough time!

The sun’s starting to set. I must hurry and fling my briefcase into the oasis, running the ink and destroying the paper. Count Dragmire is powerful, but cunning; he’ll know my bluff as soon as I play it. My naïve ruse has run its course.

I must act. I was unable to kill the Count, so now I must save my life.

October 17, midnight

After I last updated my diary, I went to the oasis and threw the contracts in, making sure that the ink ran until the words were illegible and the Count’s signature was nothing but a smudgy blot on the bottom of the page. I tossed in my briefcase as well and waited until I heard footsteps drawing near. Then I waded into the oasis and busied myself in retrieving the whole mess right as Dragmire emerged from the dusky shadows of the palace and raced over to the edge of the water.

“What happened here?” he spluttered.

“Sorry,” I lied. “I was working at the oasis and then all my documents just fell in.”

“Have they been damaged?”

I clambered out of the pool and showed him the soaked documents. “Irreparable.”

His face contorted in anger, showing only a hint of the malice I had witnessed in his chamber. “Accidents happen,” he all but snarled, making clear how little believed my act was accidental. “I suppose you’ll have to start from the beginning, yes?”

“I’m afraid so.”

His fist clenched and his upper lip curled. He didn’t seem aware that he had exposed those fang-like teeth of his, or if he did, he didn’t care. They were shorter than when I’d seen him in his coffin but no less threatening. “Very well. I urge you to make haste tomorrow morning to correct your error.”

“Of course,” I replied. “Thank you for your understanding and your hospitality.”

Dinner after that was quite a tense affair! We only talked to comment on the quality of the food and then I retired early that night on the pretense of getting a head start on rewriting. Maybe he was too irritated with me to deduce my strategy or he simply wanted me out of his sight, but he let me go without question. I plan to go as slowly as I can, but even if I made an honest go at meticulously rewriting every word, I’d be here for quite a long time!

I ended the night in high spirits, knowing my movements today would translate into my greater efforts to stall. My guardian angel would send for help, and my princess would rain hell on Count Dragmire to get me back. Despite the fear I felt when I tried to slay him, I felt confident in my plans. For the first time, I saw light at the end of the tunnel.

It didn’t last long.

I awoke later that night to screaming traveling through the castle. Without thinking, I leaped from my bed and raced out to the commotion. I found the Count in the stairwell. He was dragging my guardian angel Urbosa up to the second floor, her hair askew and her scimitar absent from her hip. Her dented armor clanged against the sandstone stairs, pieces getting pried off as they caught against the points. She left a trail of metal in her wake, leaving her exposed to the Count’s anger. She looked tired and winded as she lay sprawled across the steps. She still strained against Dragmire’s iron grip with every ounce of strength she had, but not even her mightiest of blows made Dragmire’s strength falter. 

In his other hand, Count Dragmire held the letters I asked Urbosa to send.

My stomach plummeted. He looked at me with those yellow eyes, filled with every inch of hatred I’d seen in his chamber, and I was spellbound by my fear again. 

Then Urbosa hoarsely cried out, “Run!”

That broke the spell. I bolted through the castle away from him, knowing that he would have to deal with Urbosa first before he caught me. She was still fighting, and his upper hand on her was only temporary, so if I could get out and signal someone to get help!

I made a loop through the castle and bolted for the stables. I found my traveling friend and hurried to the wall, willing to try climbing the gate again in order to get out. But as I galloped toward the gate, the horse reared back with a shrill whinny. Having foregone the saddle or reins, I slid and fell off the horse and onto the sand, knocking the wind out of me. I just barely got out of the way of the horse’s thundering hooves as it kicked and pranced. I clambered to my feet and ran, desperately trying to claw my way up the gate when a large hand grabbed me by the back of my neck and threw me back to the ground. I panted helplessly, my chest heaving as I stared into the yellow eyes of Count Dragmire, anger and hatred and savagery. He waved to the horse, who obediently went back to the stables and left me alone with his master.

“I was willing to believe your accident was human clumsiness.” He grabbed my arm and started dragging me back into the palace exactly as he hauled Urbosa in before. He handled me like a child handles a rag doll. “Imperfection is humanity. And you plotted with this stranger, this woman who wants me scrubbed from the face of the earth, to bring me down! And to think I was willing to welcome you into my ranks!”

“Where’s Urbosa?” I demanded. “What did you do to her?”

“Only what you brought on her, Mr. Bellator.”

He hauled me all the way back into my room and tossed me in, blocking the doorway with his muscular, imposing frame. “You will spend every waking hour recreating those documents, starting tomorrow morning. You better work hard; I think you know what will happen if I am dissatisfied.”

Without another word, he turned and slammed the door in my face. The knob jiggled, confirming that I was locked in my room until he deemed fit to release me. I had always been a prisoner, but only now had he dispensed with the illusion of hospitality and genteelness that had lured me into his trap.

Here I am. My call for help was discovered and intercepted. My ally was caught, and I have no idea if she’s still alive. My life is all but forfeit. I’m sorry, Urbosa. I’m sorry, Zelda. I’m sorry, Hyrule. I have failed you all.


	4. Link Bellator's Journal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link and Urbosa work together to escape Count Dragmire.

Link Bellator's Journal  
October 18

It is morning, but my night did not end with my previous entry. My hand’s shaking as I put it down, but even if this diary ends up buried in the sands of Gerudo Desert some record has to exist of Count Dragmire and the horrors that happen at his bidding.

Shortly after the Count locked my door the previous night, it opened once again and the two diminutive witches came inside, shutting the door behind them. They were so small and yet so strong as they each took one of my arms and pinned me to the ground. They leered above me, licking their lips and sharp teeth so like their son’s.

“He promised us that Gerudo woman,” hissed Kotake. “But he keeps her all for herself! Ingrate, that one.”

“You’re the ingrate,” said Koume. “Were we not fawning over this young man a night ago? Still, he’s very lean, and smaller than the woman. Who knows if he can feed us both?”

“Humans are much more resilient than we give them credit for,” her sister replied. “But we should go one at a time, or else kill our supply too early.”

They shared a look, and then Koume shrugged and waved as though she were passing over a bargain, so casual and uncaring. “Go first. If you wait any longer, you might start eating _me!”_

Kotake didn’t utter another word before sinking her teeth into my neck. She bit down hard, breaking the skin and sucking my blood from the wound with desperate hunger. Strangely, I felt no pain after the initial bite. My limbs grew heavy and an odd sense of peace overcame me, quelling the urge to push her off and defend myself. However, her strange panacea could not cure the nausea in my stomach. The sensation itself made me sick, and knowing I was in for a long night of it doubly so!

I was dizzy and half-asleep when Kotake had her fill, peeling off me and licking her lips to savor every last drop. I lay there helpless as she ran her gnarled fingers through my hair, beaming down at me like a doting mother. “He is good stock,” she said. “Go on, Koume. You’ve been patient enough!”

Her sister Koume plunged her teeth into the other side of my neck and drank until I was as lifeless as a doll. Then they left me lying on the floor, departing and locking the door behind them. Partly because of the sisters’ strange soothing effect on me and partly because I had very little strength left, I did not rise and climb into bed, unable to help falling asleep on the chilly stone floor.

Earlier this morning when I came to, it took me only a moment to remember all the terrible events of the previous night. My strength had returned to me, so I got up and changed my bloodied clothes. I bandaged the puncture wound on my neck with a bandage from my first aid kit. A wave of nausea overcame me when my fingertips brushed against them.  
Once I had washed and dressed, I noticed the tray of fruit and water waiting by my door. The note contained the same warning the Count had for me last night: _Work hard. I expect half of the documents restored by sundown. ___

__I had no intention of doing as he said, which meant it was a certainty that he would kill me by sunset. I just had to escape before then._ _

__And I had to save Urbosa, too. I woke up desolate, but as I had my breakfast, my head grew clearer and a plan took shape in my mind, forming around a fortunate accident: I kept my makeshift lockpicks in my room! In keeping them, I had preserved a grain of hope to push me forward. All was not lost._ _

__After a bit of trial and error, I was able to pick the lock to my bedroom door. Relief and urgency flooded me at once. I could move freely during the daytime, but if I didn’t work quickly enough, it might be my last day on earth!_ _

__Finding Urbosa was simple. I went to the third floor and ran until I found a room whose door was locked that hadn’t been before. I knocked and yelled, “Urbosa! Are you in there? Can you hear me?”_ _

__A faint groan answered me. I pounded hard on the door. “It’s Link! I’m going to get you out, so just hang on!”_ _

__She groaned again. In short order I had picked this lock, too, and stepped inside. Urbosa looked like she’d been tossed into the storeroom and didn’t move all night, lying there in a sprawl of limbs and blood. She was haggard, her face wan. Her thick red hair lay spilled around her head. Blood had dried from two puncture wounds on her neck. I hurried to her side and woke her, itself an exercise in patience and gentleness, and then propped her up into a sitting position against the boxes and gave her some of the fruit from my breakfast this morning. She thanked me between bites and even seemed surprised when I pulled out the first aid kit from my trunk again._ _

__“Did you know the danger you were walking into all this time?” she asked as I bandaged her neck._ _

__I shook my head. “My fiancée is meticulous and packed it just in case. I’ll never have a leg to stand on again when I say she’s being overly cautious.”_ _

__We laughed, but it didn’t last long. The danger of our situation hung over us, and we both knew that I may never see my beloved again unless we worked fast._ _

__“I’m sorry,” I said to Urbosa. “It was my letters that got you caught.”_ _

__A scowl cut across her face, but her voice was genial as she said, “I got myself caught. I knew the risk when I chose to come out and save you. It appears I am not nearly as stealthy as I thought.”_ _

__I had been the one to alert Count Dragmire to her presence. What good would it do to our new but deep alliance to mention that?_ _

__“So,” she said. “There’s two of us and three of them, but we must be able to kill them during the day.”_ _

__I shook my head. “I tried. There was some force repelling that dagger you gave me. It wouldn’t let me drive the point anywhere near him.”_ _

__She scowled. “Of course not. That would have been too simple. But I am relieved to hear you were prepared to go through with your plan. It is one thing to fight an unstoppable evil, and another to do it at the side of a coward.”_ _

__When Urbosa was patched up and fed, we climbed to our feet and went to the central oasis, drawn by the protection of the light. We had to make some sort of plan of escape, but beyond that, we needed a plan to survive outside the walls._ _

__“With the two of us,” said Urbosa, “escaping over the wall and across the desert won’t be difficult. Especially for caged animals.” That’s what we were, wasn’t it? We were caged animals scrambling to evade certain death when it woke up at sunset. All we knew was to run and hide._ _

__With little else to say, we set about preparing for our escape from the Gerudo Palace. We packed up a day’s worth of food from the kitchens, and I changed into the gear I had bought from Kara Kara Bazaar a week ago, and yet it may as well have been another life. I packed my rations and a single change of clothes into the bags we found in the stable’s tack room, and then I rejoined Urbosa in the entrance hall. She had gone to the library and retrieved some of the artifacts I once saw there, including the golden helm with six emeralds inlaid on it. “It is a relic of my people, and we’ll be grateful to have it back,” she said. Then she brandished a circular blade with wicked spikes and added, “This is a weapon unlike anything I’ve ever seen, but it’ll have to do. Keep the dagger I gave you. It’s better for us both to be armed than just one.”_ _

__We went back inside and started dumping sand out of the caskets on the third floor, hauling the light, empty boxes out of the palace and stacking them against the wall. A job impossible with one prisoner went smoothly with two, and soon we had built a staircase from the seemingly infinite supply. My heart ached, and for one last time I went back to my traveling friend in the stables and bid him goodbye, thanking him for all the help he had given me. He seemed to understand and perhaps want to go with me. Oh, if only, dear friend!_ _

__Without ceremony, Urbosa and I ascended our makeshift staircase, climbed over the wall, and jumped down to the other side. And just like that, we were free!_ _

__We ran as far as our lungs would let us and slowed only to a walk when they were about to give out. Urbosa kept us to the solid sandstone paths in our flight almost as effortlessly as the horse. We traveled all the rest of the day with only one brief stop for lunch and rest, but we were too anxious to stay put for long. My energy felt endless during our journey, adrenaline and fear fueling me to reach Gerudo Town. We barely talked the whole day once we had breached the walls, too focused on our escape to waste energy with idle chit chat._ _

__While we were eager to get to town as quickly as possible, my confidence grew with each step. Escaping the Count seemed so daunting while we were in his clutches and under his power, but together we had done the impossible. While Count Dragmire had the ability to fly and who knows what else, he would be imprisoned by the sun, and I knew without saying that Urbosa was willing to soldier on day into night into day, just like me. At least we could warn Gerudo Town and tell them to clear out quickly, and maybe they could provide a lift to a dock to the Hylia River. It was a matter of working together, that’s all. What did three monsters have on a town full of resilient people?_ _

__My hopes for cooperation and goodwill were dashed when we reached Gerudo Canyon, the abyss I first crossed to reach the desert. The sun had just begun to set, leaving an hour at most for us to warn the townsfolk. When we reached the lip of the canyon, we discovered that the wooden bridge spanning the hundred-foot gap was gone. All that remained was about fifteen feet of our end of the bridge, the planks, posts, and rope intact until they led into charred remains. Below us on the canyon floor was a misshapen mass of wood, damming the already small river and slowing it more. We could barely see the far side of the canyon, nor could we tell how much of the other end of the bridge survived!  
Urbosa hissed a word in her native language that was unmistakably a swear. “They destroyed it!”_ _

__“Who?”_ _

__“Gerudo Town!” She hurried out to the broken end of the bridge, waving her arms and flashing light off the flat of her blade, desperate to attract the eye of anyone who could help. But what could be done to repair it in an hour before the Count found us once again?_ _

__“Why would they do this?” I pleaded._ _

__“Because they fear Dragmire! They must have thought the worst when I didn’t return and knew he’d be coming for revenge.” She started yelling across the canyon in her native tongue, but no one answered. The townspeople were long gone, having given their leader and I up for dead. Their passive fear became an active strike against us._ _

__My confidence crashed yet again. I had been so sure we could escape Dragmire! The sun was dipping lower and lower on the horizon, and as I gazed down into the canyon at the shattered bridge, another idea came to me. I remembered my days with Mipha in Zora’s Domain, sailing into the sea with rafts we’d cobbled together from driftwood and spare parts from the village. Rope, wood, and a river -- we could escape still!_ _

__“Urbosa, where does that river go?”_ _

__She frowned. “It comes from the hills of Hebra, cuts into the desert, and then empties into the Lurelin Sea.”_ _

__“If we can get down into the canyon, I think I’ll be able to build a raft,” I said. “We can still escape, but we have to work fast. Not to mention that we have to get down there safely somehow.”_ _

__Urbosa flashed me an eager grin. “I can do that. Now hold on!”_ _

__With one arm she pulled me hard against her, and with the other she drew her weapon. Together we ran and leaped over the edge, and she plunged the spikes of the Demon Carver into the canyon wall to slow our descent. Her feet braced against the wall and slowed us even further, but we zipped down to the canyon floor with an alarming efficiency. I would never have been able to do this alone. Urbosa saves me yet again!_ _

__After a harrowing descent, we found ourselves on the canyon floor at the riverside. I sank to my knees, adrenaline coursing through me anew. “Forgive me,” said Urbosa, who didn’t look sorry at all. “I figured telling you my idea might scare you away from it.”_ _

__“It would have,” I confessed, glancing at the river. We saw the broken bridge more clearly here, being little more than a pile of planks and rope that we could take apart and reconstruct with ease. “Quick!” I added, for my legs still weren’t cooperating. “Find as much intact rope as you can. I’ll start pulling lumber in a minute.”_ _

__She flashed me another grin and dove into the pile. I joined her when I regained my stomach, leaping into the refuse and pulling out the bits that hadn’t been utterly destroyed. There was plenty of timber logs, likely the remnants of the bridge’s supports, that we were able to pull out. They were a little short, but as long as we were careful about our balance as we traveled, we’d be just fine. The rope was trickier, but we managed to recover enough to bind them tightly._ _

__As I worked on tying the logs, childhood callouses reappearing in my hands long since softened by office work, Urbosa set herself to clearing the debris out of the river to allow more water flow that would carry us even faster toward Lake Hebra. When our raft was finally ready, the river was huge again, rushing past with the sound of thunder in each splash. I swallowed the worry that such a powerful flow would destroy our ramshackle float as we pushed the raft into the water and climbed aboard. We set off, the river carrying us down the canyon just as the sun set._ _

__Starving from the work of the day, we couldn’t stop ourselves from eating the rest of the rations, even knowing that we ought to save them for the near future. We anticipated a single day’s journey and packed only a single day’s rations. At least we’d have our strength if the Count found us, but my confidence, twice dashed, began to bloom again. Against all odds, we survived the day and got out of Gerudo._ _

__Urbosa’s sleeping now that we hit a more peaceful stretch of the river. I’m on first watch, and I took the opportunity to update my diary with all our progress. We have a few days until Hebra, and worries for our survival are creeping in. All this water around us, but none of it safe to drink. Maybe we can find a settlement on a shore that can help us, but I left my money with the rest of my things in the castle._ _

__I regret not killing the Count when I had the chance. Whatever magical protection he had on him, I could have found a way to break through it if I was a little braver, couldn’t I? It’s easy to think that now, especially when I’m facing the consequences of my cowardice. If I had killed him in that moment, then none of this would have happened. Who knows what else will happen as a result?_ _

__Oh, Zelda. I miss you, but you keep me going. As night falls and the water’s chill enters my bones, the thought of your smile warms my heart. It looks like we’re going to leave the canyon by morning. I should have asked Urbosa more about the geography of the region, but she was so exhausted from both today’s efforts and her encounter with Dragmire the previous night that I didn’t have the heart to ply her for more information._ _

__I’ll wake her in a few hours. I already feel the call of sleep after today, but I must remain strong. I won’t be surprised if we run into more trouble like white water or hostile settlements, or even the looming hunger, dehydration, and illness we’re likely to face. I’ll fight all that and a thousand Count Dragmires to get back to you, Zelda._ _

__What will he do? The blown bridge is no obstacle to the Count and his ability to fly. He mentioned shipping cargo, but is the canyon enough to stop him? I doubt it. But what will stop him? How can I protect Zelda from the terrible Count Dragmire?_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, let me know what you think! Next week we're gonna finally hear from some new characters and explore their POVs. I'm excited for you to finally meet Zelda!


	5. Zelda Bosphoramus' Research Journal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zelda learns the family business and makes an unexpected friend.

Zelda Bosphoramus’ Research Journal

October 23

I believe every minute is an opportunity to learn. This time I’m learning about myself: mainly, how much I hate vacation.

Though this really isn’t a vacation, is it? Because if it was, I would be able to spend my time how I liked. Tabantha has such a beautiful and wild landscape, teeming with flora and fauna I’ve seen in books but never in front of me. I could spend whole days in the hills observing the creatures that inhabit them!

Alas, Father and I are stuck in Rito City, smaller in scope than Hyrule but much more modern, with dozens of residential high-rises in every direction and a large focus on walkability within its community. For a city that is already so easy to move around in, I don’t know if Father’s sales pitch will land nearly as hard as he hoped.

We’re meeting with Governor Kaneli tomorrow to discuss expanding Hyrule’s rail lines into Rito. Our automobile journey here was not unpleasant, but it took two days, a stopover at a charming little inn, and a night of fielding Father’s complaints about our progress. All this to say that a rail line could shorten the travel time between our cities from days to hours, as well as make travel possible for people who hadn’t been able to before. Imagine if we could get a rail system implemented all across the country! Even to distant Gerudo -- perhaps if trains could travel there, Link need not be gone so long. He should be coming through Rito City on his return to Hyrule any day now if my calculations are correct. He just wanted to wing it, but he was going on a business trip, not gallivanting off on an adventure!

I had hoped to bring him along to Rito for some company, but the stars just didn’t align. I’m on this “adventure” without him, though that’s far too charitable a way to put it. Father insisted on my presence when he pitched the rail expansion to Governor Kaneli, as though I don’t put my foot in my mouth every time I’ve opened it since birth! When I said as much to him earlier today, he told me that was precisely why he brought me along!

We had had lunch at a homey place called the Slippery Falcon, which specialized in hearty stews to ward away the cold of the region. We were eating later as a consequence of sightseeing (this I admit I enjoyed: Rito City had some truly innovative ideas for accessibility that I hoped to implement one day in Hyrule), so the place was quite empty when we came in. “Father,” I said, “must I go with you tomorrow to see the governor? I’m bound to misspeak and ruin the meeting! And really, I’d just drag you down, wouldn’t I?”

He turned to me with those stern eyes set over that big, bushy beard, which did nothing to hide his frown. “You came all this way to sell your product, and now you want to back out?”

“No! I just think we have a better chance if you go in alone.”

“You’re going to have to learn to sell sometime, Zelda.” He gestured widely. “Where better -- and, frankly, where _else_ \-- are you going to learn if not by doing it?”

“Father, I am best suited to laboratories! My strengths lie in design and implementation, not with persuasion!”

He sighed. “Zelda, I will not be the head of Bosphoramus Industries forever. It’s my duty as your predecessor and your father to prepare you for the day you’ll take my place. And that includes teaching you things that may not come naturally to you.”

“It’s beyond not coming naturally.” I hung my head in my hands. “I have no idea how you persuade anyone of anything! How do you do it?”

“Well, it’s a matter of reading people.”

“First strike.”

“I’m serious.” He narrowed his eyes. “You study blueprints and prototypes every day. You try to read any machine you see to figure out how it works. That’s all it is, dear. It’s reading someone to figure out how to understand them and get them to listen to you.”

It has never occurred to me to think of it in a scientific way. To note observations to understand a subject’s behavior is common enough in biology, perhaps, but to apply that method to such vastly complicated creatures as people seemed...incorrect, or wrong, or short-sighted, perhaps, but I suppose I won’t know until I try.

I hate when Father’s right. It’s childish to say that, but all my sulking has been childish, too, and that’s what a journal’s for, isn’t it? It’s for making notes and figuring things out. 

Anyway, after lunch, we came back to our hotel, a sleek, classy affair called the Swallow’s Roost. We were staying in the penthouse, which was decorated with dark wood and had these huge windows that overlooked the city sprawl. Father and I coached each other for a few hours to get the sales pitch exactly right. It was going well, at least on his part. I know the words down pat, but he says that’s the death knell of the pitch: if I sound too rehearsed, then Kaneli will hear it in my voice and disengage. I have to sound natural, but how does someone inject spontaneity into a script? 

Meanwhile, there’s Link, who has never planned anything a day in his life and is somehow on the threshold of becoming a full-fledged solicitor. A solicitor! To think I was worrying so much about Link while we were in school! I feared for his future instead of mine, but things seem to work out for him just fine, don’t they?

Hurry back, my love. I fear this excursion with Father may well kill me!

October 24

Today was the day. We arrived at Rito City Hall at precisely ten o’clock, fifteen minutes before our appointment with Governor Kaneli. As we waited in an oak-paneled lobby, I practiced Father’s method for reading people by trying to analyze the employees bustling through the hallway. The method relied on learning during a conversation, so the scraps I gleaned didn’t inform me of much. A lot of busy, tired people hurrying about to bring their city to new heights. 

Learning this method while pitching the biggest contract of my young career seems unwise! Father is dedicated to his baptism-by-fire approach and while the daughter’s lot in life is to fight with her father at every turn, it is the researcher’s to learn from experts in their field. 

Before long, the door was opened by a proud, preened man, gazing down his nose at us. “Mister and Miss Bosphoramus,” he said in a haughty voice, “the governor will see you now.”

Feeling rather faint but slapping on a brave face, I rose with Father and we went into Governor Kaneli’s office. More oak paneling, with a large desk to accommodate an even larger man. He seemed to resemble Father, with his broad body and fluffy white beard. He greeted us with a big smile and open arms as he said, “Welcome to Tabantha! Are you enjoying our fair Rito City?”

Father threw on such a wide smile that few would be able to detect the stench of greed in it. “Very much, Governor. The city has blossomed under your leadership, as has all of Tabantha.”

“You’re very kind, as I know Hylians to be.” Kaneli leaned back in his chair and gestured for us to sit, so we did. The aide who opened the door remained by it. I could feel his eyes boring into my back the whole time. Kaneli continued, “Though I also know Hylians care a lot about ceremony and pomp, all that fluff. I’d like to leave that at the door, if that’s all right with you.”

That was it, I thought. We were dead in the water. Making a sales pitch was all ceremony and pomp! It was how Father made his living! But to my surprise, Father took it in stride and replied, “You relieve me, Governor. I’m glad to hear we’re of the same mind.”

Kaneli’s smile grew wider. “So am I. Well, we both know why we’re here. Tell me about how you plan to bring Rito City into the modern age with Bosphoramus Industries.”

Bringing the city “into the modern age” was a good deal bigger than we’d rehearsed the previous day. Our pitch was for a single railway, not a transportation system for an entire city! But Father managed to turn on a dime, pitching both the Hyrule railway and some other ideas we’d tossed around the R&D department. I was sick to my stomach that those ideas hit the air. They were deeply flawed and highly idealistic, but Father spoke as if they were already in production!

Kaneli seemed to enjoy the ideas on the whole, particularly my pipe dream of automating troubleshooting measures into the engines so they could make repairs while in motion. Eventually Father steered the conversation back to the rail expansion. “We’re so pleased you’re considering joining our rail network. But if we want to get down to what the installation and maintenance will involve, my daughter Zelda is the head of Research and Development at Bosphoramus Industries, and she’ll have a better idea of the brass tacks.”

My heart skipped a beat. I felt the blood drain from my face. We had rehearsed something like this, but to talk all about the materials, the installation process, the benefits? I panicked, so I said, “It’s all quite complicated, Governor. I wouldn’t want to overwhelm you with the details of materials and landscaping and such.”

Kaneli frowned at me. “My job rests on details, Miss Bosphoramus, and I’m quite capable of understanding them. I cannot decide to do this based on your father’s rosy picture alone.”

I felt my stomach knot up. For better or for worse, I knew what would lower our chances of success, and that was insulting our potential client’s intelligence! I resolved to speak to him like a colleague, but an entry-level one to whom I would elaborate on the stickier points of things.

“Forgive me, then. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to interrupt me.” I started from the beginning. I outlined the mining and building operations that would have to go into reshaping the landscape to accommodate a rail line. “Of course, that would all rely on where you chose to place the rail,” I said as I unrolled the map of all Hyrule I brought with me, spreading it flat on Kaneli’s desk. “I’d recommend running through the center of Rito City and in a straight line until we reach the western side of Hyrule City.” 

“Wait.” The aide standing by the door drew close, peering down at the map. “Show me this route.” I traced my finger along the map again, and he asked, “How do you plan on getting around the mountains in Hebra?”

“By going through them,” I replied.

He scoffed. “Is that the best you can do?”

“Excuse me?”

Kaneli sighed and said, “This is Mr. Revali Crest. He’s in charge of constituent relations. Mr. Crest, what is your concern with the route?”

“The Hebra mountains are notoriously prone to heavy landslides sudden enough to kill construction workers. Take it from me,” he said, puffing out his chest. “I’ve been climbing those mountains for years. Any railway should avoid the mountains entirely.”

I balked, and before I could think about the tactful option, I said, “Going around them would defeat the whole point of efficient travel!”

“Then how do you propose to protect the workers?” Crest shot back. “And should you complete construction, how do you propose to protect the passengers of these trains?”

Kaneli nodded thoughtfully. “True. The Hebra landslides are frequent and will be more so if we destabilize the mountains by digging through them. They could even derail your trains.”

“Governor,” Father broke in, “these are all valid concerns, but I’m sure we can find solutions once we agree to terms and set the project in motion.”

Kaneli shook his head. “I won’t be moving forward until we can address these concerns. I must consider all factors, Mister Bosphoramus, and the safety of my workers and citizens most of all. I want these things thoroughly considered and prepared for.”

I don’t even know how it happened, but suddenly a plan was forming in my head and leaping from my tongue. “We’ll conduct some geographical surveys with your permission, but I suspect we can accomplish our goal with a combination of controlled avalanches to clear the route and building a skeleton within the mountains for reinforcement.”

“Controlled avalanches?” Crest spat. “How do you propose we protect the people who would trigger them? And even if they were successfully managed, it won’t be long before the Hebra snowfall makes up the difference.”

“Crest!” barked Kaneli to hush him, but I knew he was right. Building a tunnel through the mountains was far too dangerous if we did it this way. But every problem must have a solution! There must be some way to get a train through the mountains without derailing it or harming passengers or workers. 

And then it hit me. The landscape was too inhospitable to conquer, so why not be clever in how we navigated it?

“We go underground!” I exclaimed, rather indecently interrupting the tense discussion between the others. “Forgive me. But I believe that’s our solution, gentlemen. We dig a tunnel under the mountains as opposed to through them. That way the avalanches won’t endanger the workers during construction or the passengers once the railway’s up and running. We’ll have to reinforce the tunnels to make up for the lost earth we’re digging out, of course, but on the whole that’s a safer route for all parties involved.”

Kaneli and Crest fell silent, and I daresay they were impressed. Father remained stone-faced, but I saw a glimmer of pride in his eye. “I quite like the idea,” said Kaneli, “but the question of implementation remains. We know what we want to do, but not how to achieve it.”

“Of course, sir. I’ll revise our current blueprints based on this concept. It’ll be an interesting design challenge, but I’m thrilled to try it!” We tossed around some other ideas for a while and then set up another meeting in a month’s time when I would bring my reworked designs for a subterranean train -- a subterranean train! How thrilling! -- back to Governor Kaneli. Feeling rather pleased, Father and I took our leave and headed to a restaurant Kaneli recommended.

“You did very well, Zelda,” Father said as we sat down in a cozy booth. “You were quick on your feet and you responded to Governor Kaneli’s demands. You did better than even I expected.”

I’ve never felt prouder! “Thank you, Father. But really, we were extraordinarily lucky. His questions concerning design and development landed right in my wheelhouse.”  
“Then perhaps that’s your strategy. Find ways to steer the pitch into things you feel comfortable talking about. I’m afraid there’s no replacement teacher for experience but using that tactic will help you learn the rules of the game.”

He smiled, and for the first time, I felt a hint of confidence that I truly could take over for him one day, and I wouldn’t sink Bosphoramus Industries into the ground.

Now we’re back at the hotel, and I’m writing everything down so I can retell it to Link when he returns. If I wrote him now, I doubt the letter would reach him before he left Gerudo, and then where would he be? With these notes, I’ll be able to recount the story in perfect clarity.

My mind is buzzing with design ideas, but Father’s insisting on a night on the town to celebrate the outcome of the meeting today, and I can’t help but acquiesce. I can brainstorm on the way home tomorrow.

Letter, Mr. Masao Sooga of the Yiga Shipping Company to Mr. Daruk Flintlock

October 25

To Mr. Flintlock,

Updating you as requested. Unexpected delay as Count Dragmire discovered an issue with several pieces of cargo and for bridge repairs across the canyon, but we were able to reach Gerudo Town by nightfall. Will telegram when we reach Rito City.

By the way, you told us to consult with Mr. Bellator in case difficulty arose, but we were told by Count Dragmire he had already left.

From,

Mr. Masao Sooga

Zelda Bosphoramus’ Research Journal

October 25

I’m writing during a boring afternoon of an unusual morning. We were due to leave Rito City around nine o’clock but imagine my surprise when someone knocked on our penthouse door at eight. It was Revali Crest, Governor Kaneli’s chief of constituents!

He looked just as irritated at being there as Father and I were surprised. He heaved a great, big sigh and said, “I’ve been sent by Governor Kaneli to apologize for my behavior yesterday. I didn’t mean to speak out of turn or insult you in any way. If I did, then I am sorry.”

I could tell Father disliked Crest’s manner immensely but was prepared to accept his apology. I just couldn’t let that stand!

“Mr. Crest,” I butted in, “you didn’t do anything wrong! Your concerns for your people were perfectly valid. You should be lauded for thinking of them!”

Both men were shocked, but Crest looked rather pleased as he replied, “Well, thank you, Miss Bosphoramus. My people are my greatest concern, and I find minimizing my concerns with manners does them a disservice. I’d rather be straightforward, if rude.”

“I feel exactly the same.” That’s all it came down to, wasn’t it? Doing the right thing for everyone involved. So what if feelings got hurt in the process? “I’m glad you’re looking out for your people, and I’m excited to work with you further on this project.”

“We accept your apology,” Father interrupted, eyeing me slyly. If there was any slight perceived, he wanted to bank on it. “My daughter shares your dedication to your people. I’d say you’re very lucky, Mr. Crest.”

The corner of Crest’s mouth turned upward into a genuine smile -- at least, the closest expression to a genuine smile I’d yet seen on his face. “I can see that. I’ll admit I can be pretty rough around the edges when it comes to working out deals and things like that. I’m a man of action, not words.”

I laughed. “That explains it. You’re just like my fiancée!” Though Link was much quieter than Crest, they had a similar dislike of vapid words. “He’s very direct, too. And honestly, so am I.”

“Now that I’m glad to hear.” He cracked a smirk. “We’ll waste no time moving forward, I bet.”

“Perish the thought! Why, we might move as fast as our trains!”

With a great deal of enthusiasm (save Father), Crest treated us to breakfast before we left the city. Without the pomp and circumstance of the governor’s office, Crest loosened up quite a bit. He never lost that self-importance, nor should he, I think, but his no-nonsense way of speaking made him quite a refreshing companion. He told me of his youth exploring the Hebra Mountains and the countless close shaves he encountered with his friends (all stories in which he heroically saved everyone from peril, quite curiously). I’ve adored my studies and work in engineering, but I do long for some swashbuckling, daring adventures like the ones Crest boasts about and the ones Link sometimes speaks of. Perhaps one day.

We bid goodbye to Crest at the restaurant and finally set off for Hyrule City. I thought Crest hated me, only to prove he and I are very similar. For someone as proud as him, I never thought he’d make such an about-face!

October 26

Finally back at work. I had to put aside my drafts for the underground train to deal with problems concerning the running gear on our steam engines. The issues concern stability and speed; specifically, the lack of former at the latter. When our engines reach their traveling speed, conductors are reporting difficulty in maintaining that speed or, worse, rattling and wobbling on the rails. No major accidents yet, thank the Three, but Purah is right. We ought to get out in front of the issue and incorporate a fix into our next model’s design. Yet another improvement to factor in, among wheel-slip, is increased power to accommodate more passenger carriages, and the ever-looming desire to lower maintenance and repair costs. It seems whenever we roll out a new engine that fixes the problems of its predecessor, the problems with the new one increase tenfold!

Yet, as the list of alterations for the new design grows longer, I become more and more thrilled at the prospect of puzzling over it all. A solution exists for every problem, and that solution is reached through creativity, cleverness, and on occasion sheer nerve. The prospect of designing those fixes and then fitting them neatly into one strong, slender design beckons me like nothing else. And the journey to that solution is almost as satisfying as the solution itself, all the calculations and research and testing, but those journeys are compressed and trimmed to fit a production timetable. 

My joy is marred, though, as days slog by without word from Link. He should be back by now, and he had promised to write me if he was delayed. I thought to pay a visit to Mr. Flintlock myself to see if he wrote him instead, but surely a delay of one week is nothing to worry about. Bosphoramus women are strong, no-nonsense folk. Their insides shouldn’t twist up with worry when their plans have a slight deviation. 

Listen to me prattle on! I’m no lovesick teen, but a woman who has work to do and can’t afford to waste time. 

Telegram, Mr. Masao Sooga of the Yiga Shipping Company to Daruk Flintlock

October 31

Mr. Flintlock,

Arrived in Rito City today with Count Dragmire’s cargo. No problems, no damage. Expect to reach Hyrule City in 2 days’ time.

Zelda Bosphoramus’ Journal

November 1

Almost another full week and no sign of Link. I’ve tried not to worry but remaining calm has become quite the monumental task. 

I’ve made little progress on my designs for the underground train because I’ve been so worried about him. I’m scribbling these worries down in my research journal in hopes that they’ll leave me alone once they’re on paper and allow me to get back to work. He would have written if he was delayed this long, so I cannot help but wonder if something terrible happened to him.

I’ve written Governor Kaneli requesting cooperation on arranging a team to survey the Hebra Mountains. Ideally, they’ll be a combination of my engineers as well as experienced Rito explorers, but it may be too dangerous for engineers used to their cushy labs to tag along. His answer should come in a few days.

Maybe another letter is in order. 

Telegram, Mr. Masao Sooga of the Yiga Shipping Company to Daruk Flintlock

November 2

Arrived in Hyrule City. Deposited all cargo at Demise estate in chapel as requested. Left key on sill. Expect invoice in mail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! Updates will likely slow down now that I've started a new job, but rest assured I'm committed to finishing this story.


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